


Beyond the Door

by PenguinofProse



Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Family Fluff, Healing, It was all a simulation, Post 7.13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Abby's POV companion piece to "Fields of Gold" and "The Other Side". In which S1-7 were all a simulation, and Abby and Jake find their way back to each other. Featuring background Bellarke and family feels.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Jake Griffin, minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin - Relationship
Series: Fix-it fics for S7 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927285
Comments: 17
Kudos: 50





	Beyond the Door

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up writing another companion piece to "Fields of Gold" and "The Other Side". This is Abby POV and I'm wondering about doing Octavia next because a few people have requested that. Huge thanks to Stormkpr and happy reading!
> 
> Content note: addiction, anxiety, OCD, outsider POV of the depression and PTSD depicted in the other pieces.
> 
> And not a trigger warning, but please do observe the relationship tags. This is Jake and Abby, not Kane. Please don't read it and then complain in the comments if that's going to annoy you.

Abby is a curious woman. She didn't become a successful doctor by accident. So when she opens her eyes to the sight of bright yellow light and a lot of grey ceiling, her mind starts working a mile a minute.

Is this some strange after-effect of Simone taking over her body? Is it a dream, or her life flashing before her eyes? It could be that, she thinks. This does look a little like the industrial practicality of the Ark. So it could well be her life flashing before her eyes – although if that is the case, it is certainly flashing very _slowly_.

Then she hears Callie's voice, and realises it's something a hell of a lot weirder than that.

"You're OK, Abby. Just lie still. We're disconnecting you now."

If Callie's here, the answer is a simple one, Abby decides. She must be in heaven. She wasn't sure heaven existed before this moment, but she can see no other explanation for the presence of her long-dead best friend. All at once, her mind is moving a mile a minute. Is everyone she loves who is dead here, too? Will she get to see Marcus again?

Will she get to see Jake again?

"That's good, Abby. Stay still. Disconnection takes a few moments."

Disconnection? What's that? Why is she being _disconnected_? That's not part of any afterlife mythology she's ever come across before.

"Callie?" She whispers, voice smaller than she remembers. It shakes even more than she remembers from the height of her addiction.

"Yes, Abby?"

"What do you mean – disconnected? What's happening?"

There's a moment's pause. Abby feels gentle hands start to faff by her ankle, apparently undoing some kind of restraint.

And then, of all things, Thelonius Jaha's voice starts to explain.

"You've been engaged in a simulation, Abby. It's vital work, and I thank you for your service. We've been exploring the viability of a return to the ground."

Abby snorts without humour. Returning to the ground is _not_ viable. She thinks she's right in concluding that.

"Abby?" Callie sounds concerned.

Abby tries to gather her wits. She supposes laughing at big news is not a great sign of sanity. In her defence, she's not at her most mentally functional. She's a recovering drug addict who keeps watching people she loves die.

Hang on – is she a recovering drug addict? If that was all a simulation, was any of it real?

"What was real?" She asks, and her voice doesn't sound right even to her own ears.

"Everything up until Jake found the oxygen fault. That fault doesn't exist – that was the start of the simulation. So everyone's alive, Abby." Callie says, in what is apparently supposed to be a soothing voice. "Jake, Marcus. Clarke will be alive when she disconnects, too."

"Clarke's still in there?" She checks. She can see that it must be so, but her horror makes her ask the question.

"Clarke will stay in there until she dies in the simulation. That's how it works." Thelonius says calmly.

Abby hates him for that. Heaven knows, they've had their differences in the past. But this is the first time she has ever truly hated her old friend. How can he just stand by and tell her that her daughter will endure this mental torture until she dies?

He's gone before she can give him a piece of her mind. He's always done a good vanishing act when the going gets tough, has Thelonius.

It is left to Callie to unstrap Abby from her chair and help her get her bearings. She helps, too, by catching her up on a few events. Marcus disconnected a couple of weeks ago and seems to be doing fine.

Jake disconnected a couple of _years_ ago, and Callie offers no comment on how he's doing at all.

That's what makes her mind up, in the end. It's that great gaping silence where Callie's reassurances about Jake's health and mental state ought to be. It's the fear of how he's coping, fear that he's been left lonely and betrayed. That fear is stronger even than the fear she feels of his reaction to her showing up out of the blue. He must have worked out by now that she betrayed him, after all.

Thelonius has probably _told_ him, she thinks sourly, if his recent moral decline is anything to go by.

So, yes, she's worried about him. She's concerned about the wellbeing of the husband she betrayed.

That's what decides it – she needs to go and see him.

"I want to see Jake." She announces to Callie, who was half way through a sentence about Wells and some of the kids Clarke used to be friends with, who are apparently in lockup.

Callie starts, visibly surprised. "Not – not Marcus?"

Abby sighs. She does want to see Marcus. She loves Marcus – she was about to sacrifice every inch of moral high ground she has ever occupied to save his life, just a few short simulated hours ago. But she _needs_ to see Jake. She needs it on some fundamental level, needs it with a burning desperation she cannot quite explain. She died loving Marcus, and knowing he loved her.

But now she's been reborn into a world where her husband is all alone, where he's had two years to stew on her betrayal. And that's something that she urgently wants to fix.

"Jake first." She chokes out, tearing up for the first time in this whole strange conversation.

Callie simply nods. She stands, offers Abby a hand to help her off up the chair. And then she opens the door of this strange grey room, and beckons Abby out into the Ark she used to know.

…...

Callie offers to come with Abby all the way to visit Jake, but she declines. This is something she has to do alone. So it is that she confirms Jake's address – the same apartment they used to live in, naturally – and sets off down the crowded halls.

People smile at her as she passes. Some wave. Sinclair even stops her for a hearty hug. And that's great, of course it is, because these are all people she has missed. But she needs to see Jake urgently, and they're holding her up.

That urgency dies when she arrives. It dies all at once, as she stands in the corridor, people passing by her, while she spends several long minutes staring at her own front door.

She can't do it. She simply can't do it. She cannot bring herself to knock, to face up to whatever she might find beyond the door.

She gathers her courage, raises her hand. Lowers it again. She can't -

The door opens right in her face, and Jake almost falls straight into her.

"Abby?" He asks. She doesn't see why it should be a question. Obviously she is Abby.

"Jake."

She nods, awkward, stands there less than a foot away from him. She'd have expected him to pull back after he'd finished falling into her, but apparently he's frozen to the spot.

Maybe she ought to try to speak. "I'm sorry for coming over unannounced. I just – _disconnected_ , that's it? But I can see I've interrupted something so I'll just -"

"I'm going to work." Jake announces, the words too carefully enunciated to sound natural.

She nods again, even awkwarder. "OK. Well we can -"

"I _was_ going to work." He amends, reversing back through the door. "Come on in. I can be late. Sinclair will cope without me for now."

"I just saw him, actually." She supplies, babbling nervously. "He was already on his way in. So you're -"

"Abby. Come on in. We should talk."

She gulps. That doesn't sound good. And she doesn't much like being invited in to what she still instinctively thinks of as her own home. But all the same she follows him in taut silence, takes a seat on an old armchair she never liked much. She used to share the couch with Jake, more often than not, but she supposes that's not an option now.

She opens her mouth to speak, but Jake beats her to it.

"I have something I want to say to you, Abby. I've been practising for this day for a while. But it caught me by surprise." He gives a nervous laugh, and she does not join in. "I wanted to say – no hard feelings. I get it. We had a good run, and our daughter is incredible. But I can see that – I wasn't your priority. So that's fine. I'm not dead. So I hope you and Marcus will be very happy together."

She gapes at him, stunned. _That's_ what he's been practising for two years? _Her_ Jake – loyal, warm, and optimistic – has spent two years practising some cold speech about going their separate ways with _no hard feelings_?

She bursts into tears. Of course she does. That's the emotion of the last thirteen simulated decades catching up with her. She lets loose in noisy sobs, shakes her head hopelessly. She never expected a second chance at life to feel so thoroughly dispiriting. She knows this ought to be a win, but it feels like a hollow victory to say the least. She feels like she's lost _everyone_. Even those she has just found still alive.

She's half surprised when she feels Jake's arms closing around her. A hug does not seem to be in keeping with that message of letting each other go. But she's even more surprised by just how tentatively he hugs her – as if, after everything _she_ has done wrong, he's worried that she might not want a hug from _him_. It's so ridiculous her tears almost turn to hysterical laughter. Can he not see that she'd do anything to reclaim a little of his warmth?

That thought catches her by surprise. _Anything_? Does she really feel that way? Is she really so keen to fix things between them?

It's a decision she doesn't remember making. She remembers coming here to check Jake was OK, and to say a few apologies. But somehow all it has taken is one cold speech about separating to make her realise that she desperately wants the opposite.

She wants them to have a second chance at being together.

She doesn't know where that has come from. The impulsiveness of it scares her. Or maybe it's not so very sudden – maybe it's been there all along, but hidden underneath the fact that she thought she _couldn't_ have this second chance. Maybe if she'd known he was still alive, she'd have been holding out hope of fixing things with Jake all this time.

She just doesn't even know. All she knows is that she's scared, and tired, and crying in her estranged husband's arms.

"Abby?" He sounds worried, and it makes her heart ache. "You're OK, Abby. I know it's strange. It takes a while to adjust. But you're OK. You've got plenty of people looking out for you. You've got Callie and me and – and Marcus."

She cries a bit longer. She weeps like a child, messy and out of control. She's a little ashamed of herself but she cries anyway. Until at last she comes out the other side, tears slowing even if they do not exactly stop.

"I haven't been practising for this day." She chokes out, when she can more or less speak again. "It caught me by surprise because I didn't know you were still alive. I've only been thinking about this for a few minutes. But – but I don't want to leave it at that." She says, as firmly as she can.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this doesn't end here. This doesn't end with you telling me _no hard feelings_." She gathers her strength, thinks of Clarke. She's always found her daughter something of an inspiration. "I want us to try harder than that. I want _me_ to try harder than that to earn your forgiveness and show you that our family has always been my priority. And if after we've tried, it doesn't work out – fair enough. If you genuinely can't forgive me, or we're genuinely not a good fit after all this time, then you can have your _no hard feelings_. But I'm not ready to give up now."

She doesn't know what she's expecting. Shock, perhaps. Or maybe for Jake to bite back at her every bit as firmly that he's not prepared to even give her a chance.

What she's not expecting is his warm smile, and startled laugh.

"There she is." He mutters, trying to keep smiling even as she can see his eyes filling with tears. "That's my Abby. You just can't give up, can you?"

She thinks about the events of the simulation. She thinks about the addiction, the guilt she carries with her for what she perceives as _giving up_ then. She thinks about sacrificing herself on Sanctum, about letting Clarke lead the way even when it put her in danger. She has given up more often than she would like to, in that horrific world in her head.

She has no intention of giving up here and now.

"I can't give up on _you_." She amends, determined to prove it true.

…...

She sleeps in Clarke's bed that night. She and Jake may not be giving up, but they're not exactly ready to jump into bed together any time soon. So Abby makes up her daughter's old bed with clean sheets and tries to get some rest.

This gives her a deadline, she muses, as she slips into sleep. She needs to make up with Jake before Clarke disconnects. Otherwise someone in this apartment is going to be without a bed.

…...

She goes to see Marcus bright and early the following morning. She couldn't face it the night before, needed to finish crying, and chat about nothing with Jake for a while, and get some rest. But now she knows it's time to gather her courage and face up to this tough conversation.

She has no idea what she will say. How does she go about explaining that she really does love Marcus, but that the love she has for Jake is different? That is _Ark_ love, and her love for Marcus was _Earth_ love. Heavens, it even misfired a little on Sanctum, or in that cursed bunker. And how does she go about articulating such complicated concepts as the idea that her relationship with Marcus helped her to forgive herself for betraying Jake, but that Jake will always be the man she loved first?

The stupidest thing of all is that she's pretty sure she actually loves Marcus _more_ , right now. In her heart of hearts, she's still the woman who wept over him on Sanctum. It's taking her emotions a little while to catch up with the events of the last twenty-four hours.

She finds his apartment. She stands outside the door. Again, she struggles with the reality of knocking and starting the conversation. Again, she raises her hand, then lowers it.

She needs to do this. If she's serious about starting over with Jake, she needs to end things properly with Marcus.

It sounds so silly, put like that. As if this was some casual teenage relationship, not the connection that kept her going through the hardest years of her adult life. Marcus deserves better, she thinks, than her chaotic dithering.

It's that thought that has her knocking at his door. He opens it right away, sees her there, greets her with a warm hug. She returns it easily, gratefully. A hug is much more welcome than the awkwardness of a kiss, right now.

"Can we talk?" She asks carefully.

He nods. She swallows, follows him inside. It's odd, this. She barely came to his quarters before the simulation. She thinks she's maybe been here three times in her life. And it's not just the room that is strange to her – she barely recognises Marcus himself, too. He's dressed the same, with the same hair cut and clean-shaven chin, as she remembers from the days before they were even friends.

And yet the look in his eyes is much more familiar – soft and warm as she is used to.

"Callie told me." He confesses, words spilling out of him almost before he is sitting down. "Callie told me that you were awake and that you'd gone to see Jake first. So I guess – I think I know what you're here to say."

"It's not as simple as that. We're not – it's not like we could just pick up where we left off. But I want us to try again." She says, wanting to make it clear that this is her decision, but not wanting to be unnecessarily hurtful.

"You think it will work?"

"I want to make it work." She insists. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to be honest with you."

He nods. He shakes his head. It's an odd, disordered combination for a man who is usually so collected. And then he sucks in a breath and speaks.

"I think maybe it had run its course, Abby. Towards the end there – sometimes it felt more like a coping mechanism than a relationship. And not a very healthy one."

"But we were too scared to end it." She suggested. "That's why – it's one of the reasons you floated yourself. So I couldn't keep holding onto you. So I couldn't become like the primes."

He nods, heavy. "No more fear, OK? Go choose Jake, and choose him for the right reasons."

She nods. She can see what he means. She needs to go build a life of joy with Jake, not cling to him in fear the way she was clinging to Marcus, scared of how she might collapse or relapse without him.

She tells him she hopes he'll be happy, too. She stands up to leave, hugs him once more for good measure. And then she closes the door behind her with dry eyes.

…...

Jake is pottering around the kitchen when she arrives home.

"I made pancakes for brunch." He offers brightly.

She can't decide whether to smile or frown. It's damn weird having her husband for a roommate like this, having him cook meals and try to share a cheerful chat in this platonic way. And she doesn't understand why he's home at this time in the morning anyway – doesn't he have work to go to? Not to mention that pancakes cost a lot of ration points.

She sighs, shakes her head. She's turning into Clarke – overthinking everything. She wonders how her little girl is doing, coping in Sanctum in that simulation right now. No doubt Bellamy is looking after her, she muses.

"Abby? What's wrong? I thought pancakes were your favourite?" Jake asks, sounding alarmed. "I'm sorry. Maybe that's changed. I should have -"

"They're still my favourite. Or – I guess they are. I feel like I haven't eaten one in six years." She admits, trying for a light tone.

Jake nods. He serves up some pancakes, hands the plate to Abby. They take their food to the table, sit down and start eating in heavy silence.

"Now are you going to tell me what's on your mind?" Jake asks, when they've been eating a few seconds.

Abby grins. There's that combination of warmth and impatience to him that she's missed so much. "Quite a lot. You'll regret asking."

"OK. Let's start small. How did things go with Marcus?"

"Really well. I think – he actually broke up with me, maybe? He said he thought we were on the way out anyway." She laughs a little hysterically at the ridiculousness of it all.

He reaches across the table and lays a hand over hers. It's nice. Comforting. "Then he's mad. The only acceptable reason to break up with you is betrayal and death. And even that's not a done deal, I hear. Apparently even then there's still hope."

He's trying to tease her, but she's not really in a teasing mood. "I thought he was dead, and he thought I betrayed him. I tried to make him live forever. Did you know that?"

Jake withdraws his hand, stares at his food. "I know everything, Abby. I've been keeping myself up to date with every last thing that happened to you in there."

She gasps, stunned. She never realised he still cared that much. Maybe they really can make this work.

"Thanks." She says simply. It's a big kind of thank you – gratitude both for his ongoing concern, but also for the practicalities. She won't have to work up the courage to tell him everything, if he already knows.

"What else is on your mind?" He asks softly.

"Clarke. She's been through so much. And I know she's got Madi and Bellamy to keep her going, but it's getting tough in there, Jake. _Tougher_. I wish we could get her out of there."

"We can't. Thelonius has it all sewn up. He's good at suppressing opposition, that man." Jake spits, angry.

Abby sighs. They were friends with Thelonius once. Before he decided to torture everyone – it turns out that will sour a friendship.

Jake, however, has something else to say. "Tell me more about Madi. I know that sounds silly. But – I'll never get to meet my grandchild."

"I never thought of it like that." She muses, considering. "I think you'll have another grandchild sooner or later, if Bellamy gets any say in the matter. But you're right – if they do ever have kids, that won't replace Madi. She's a great girl from what I can see. Brave like Clarke. I wish I knew her better. Clarke's going to be devastated when she loses her."

Jake doesn't quite respond to that. He's frowning hard. "So she and Bellamy are together now? I thought I knew everything that was going on in there. How have I missed that?"

Abby smiles sadly. "Not officially. But it'll happen, that side of disconnection or this side. I'd stake anything on it."

"From what I've heard, they're good for each other."

"Yeah. Perfect. They support each other but they seem happier together, too." She swallows hard. "They're how I wish we could be. I know that must sound stupid – but I've always found Clarke an inspiration since we landed. Is that weird, to be inspired by my own kid? And their relationship, the way they forgive each other and work through the tough times together. I – I want that for us."

"I want that, too. Why do you think I made pancakes when I should be at work?" He asks, trying for a joke, but voice too thick with emotion to quite pull it off, she thinks.

All the same, she does him the favour of laughing. She eats a few more bites of pancake, and decides that they are definitely still her favourite food.

He speaks up once more, surprising her. "I know what you mean about Clarke inspiring you. She's pretty special, our kid. We did well, Abby."

She smiles, reaches out to clasp his hand. "We did well." She echoes with conviction.

Maybe there's hope. It turns out that sometimes there are pancakes and clasped hands waiting beyond the door.

…...

They eat a lot of pancakes that week. Jake doesn't make it to work on time once, but whenever Abby mentions it he brushes her off with jokes about how he's his own boss, and the chief of engineering cannot possibly be late into the office.

Abby doesn't make it to work at all. She doesn't seem to have work to do, in fact. Jaha informs her that she is on leave until she feels recovered and able to go back to med bay.

She's not sure what she's supposed to be recovering from. A drug addiction that was never actually real? But whose effects she still thinks she can feel, odd phantom cravings that creep up on her in the midnight hours? The shock of disconnection? The grief of ending things with Marcus? The guilt she still feels for betraying Jake, for leaving Clarke in the simulation, for everything and nothing?

If she's not allowed back in med bay until she's fully moved on from every single one of those horrors, she's pretty certain she'll never make it back to work at all.

…...

She spends a lot of time with Callie. It's good to have her best friend back again – good in an uncomplicated way, compared with the awkwardness of having Jake and Marcus back again. They get coffee together almost every afternoon, and it breaks up the monotony of Abby's days spent tidying the apartment or failing to read medical papers as she waits for her leave to be over.

Today it is not a nice break, though. Today it seems Callie has an agenda.

"You need to go back to work." She tells Abby firmly, before she has even sipped her coffee.

Abby splutters messily. "What? I'm on leave. I'm supposed to take some time for my recovery."

"Is it working? Honestly?"

Abby frowns. She thinks of the empty hours spent sitting in the apartment and fretting about Clarke. She thinks of her obsessive cleaning, as if Jake might love her again if his socks are ironed and the taps polished daily. She thinks of the medical papers she has taken to reading for a little mental stimulation.

"No. I miss medicine." She hesitates, takes a deep breath. "I don't see why I can't go back to it. I was happy as a doctor. It was – it came easily to me, you know? I know it's not actually an easy job, but it came naturally to me. I get that I should take some time to recover before I think about getting involved in politics. But I think it would be good for me to set the occasional broken arm."

Callie nods, satisfied. "I knew you'd say that, if you really stopped and answered the question. Go tell Thelonius that. He may be brutal, but he's not stupid. He'll put you back in med bay, at least for a couple of shifts a week."

She nods. She can do that. And she stores away for later that little thought about Thelonius being _brutal_. There must be something that can be done about that, she thinks. She doesn't want to watch him ruin people's lives forever, but she feels rather too hopeless to change things, just now.

…...

Abby enjoys her first shift in med bay way more than she probably should. There's a dislocated shoulder to reset, a mild case of the flu to deal with. A couple of inpatients need routine medication. That's about it, but it's more excitement than she's seen in days.

She's in high spirits when she gets home, bundles through her own front door with scarcely a nervous pause.

And then her day gets even better.

"Jake?" She asks, puzzled. He seems to be holding a great armful of bedsheets.

"Abby. Hey. You caught me. I was hoping this would be a surprise."

She frowns. "What would?"

"I'm changing Clarke's bedding. You know, putting her clean sheets back on. I thought maybe – you might not need them any more."

"What are you saying?" She asks, carefully calm. She cannot afford to get overexcited about this.

He drops the sheets unceremoniously at his feet, smiles tentatively across the room at her. "I'm saying you should come back to our bed. I don't know why we waited weeks to do that, really. It's not like you're going to stab me in my sleep."

His joke falls flat. Of course it does. She did condemn him to death, once upon a time.

He continues in a rush. "So, yeah. I mean, I'm not thinking of us being really... romantic together or whatever. I'm just saying, if we can eat pancakes together every morning and we're serious about staying together and making it work, we can probably sleep on opposite sides of a bed without a problem."

She smiles cautiously. She nods, then goes to pick up the sheets he dropped. Obsessively cleaning the apartment is kind of her thing, these days.

…...

They don't sleep on opposite sides of the bed that night, in the end. That's just not how it turns out. It's not as though they have lots of passionate sex, either. But they just gravitate together in the night, wake up holding each other loosely.

It's a start, Abby thinks. It feels a lot like making it work.

…...

To say Bellamy catches them by surprise would be an understatement. It's not just that they're not expecting him on this particular day, of course. The biggest shock of all is the idea that Clarke of all people killed him and caused his disconnection. Abby never thought she'd live to see the day when Bellamy Blake would sit in her living room and cry over Clarke actually shooting him in the heart.

She's shaken. She doesn't mind admitting it. When Bellamy eventually leaves, she finds that she is on the verge of tears herself, pacing the length of the living room.

Jake stops her. His arms close around her in a hug, half comforting, half confining.

"You're OK. Just slow down for a minute. Let's talk about it." He suggests quietly.

"I just can't believe it. She must be – she must be struggling." She concludes, inadequate.

"Yeah." He sighs loudly. "You remember that time when you said you wished we were more like the two of them?" He asks.

She shakes her head, cheeks rubbing against his neck. "They'll fix things. They have to. They'll figure it out when she disconnects. There's no way that's Clarke, Jake. I don't know what Thelonius has done to her now, but there's no way she would just shoot Bellamy. She loves him." She concludes simply.

He hums a little, keeps holding her tight. It's lovely, this. It's reassuring, and comforting, and it's the longest hug they've shared since they decided to try again.

Abby wonders whether that means something. She wonders whether it's wrong to be happy for herself right now, when Clarke is obviously in such a bad place. She wonders whether it's wrong to feel that her relationship is beginning again, on the very day when her daughter's has ended before it ever officially got started.

She stops wondering any of those things, when Jake cups her cheek with a hand and tips her head up for a kiss. She stops thinking about anything at all beyond the warmth of his lips and the gentleness of his hands as he kisses her long and deep and hungry.

It doesn't stop there. They move to the bedroom, to undressing, to making love on the bed they've shared throughout their marriage.

Abby decides something, as she lies there in the warm afterglow of sex, wrapped tight in Jake's arms. She decides that it's possible to be sad for Clarke and happy for herself at the same time. It _has_ to be possible, because otherwise she will go completely insane, drowning in warring emotions.

She's happy with Jake. And that's something she wants to treasure.

…...

She goes to visit Bellamy quite a lot. She takes him food, washes his shirts, fusses over him far more than is strictly normal, she fears.

It may not be normal, but he seems to need it. She wonders sometimes if he even notices the meals or clean laundry appearing. He really is in a bad way. She's a doctor, so she knows what depression is. And she's pretty certain that Bellamy's current state goes far beyond the usual shock and grief of disconnection.

She doesn't resent taking care of him. He's important to Clarke, so he's important to Abby. And besides which, she does want a grandchild one day.

There's more to it than that, though. There's more to it even than the fact that she's grateful to Bellamy for protecting Clarke all those times in the simulation, for taking care of her and making her laugh.

He's a good man. She sees that now, even if she didn't see it back at Camp Jaha. He's a good man, and she's proud to consider him family.

…...

She misses Clarke's disconnection. Of course she does – isn't that typical? She feels like she's never there when her little girl needs her.

Clarke's not so little any more, these days, of course. She's a grown woman who has led the human race before now. But all the same, Abby feels guilty for having been at work when Clarke first came home.

She tries to make up for it that night. She sees Bellamy leaving Clarke's room, trying to pretend he's not crying, so she does him the favour of acting like she sees nothing amiss.

And then she seizes her chance, and knocks on Clarke's door.

"Clarke? Honey? I know you wanted some privacy. I just wanted to tell you I'm home."

To her surprise, Clarke leaps straight into her arms. Abby hugs her back hard, trying to process this development. She and Clarke haven't always been on such great terms, in recent parts of the simulation. She's surprised to find that her daughter is so eager for her embrace, now.

They hug for a long time. Abby can hear Clarke crying softly, but she doesn't comment. She half wonders about sending Jake jogging down the corridor to bring Bellamy back to mop up Clarke's tears, but she supposes that might not help. Just because he chose to visit her, doesn't mean all is magically fixed between them, she knows.

At length, Clarke pulls away.

"Thanks, Mum." She offers a tremulous smile. "It's good to see you. And thanks for the hug. I needed one."

Huh. She needed a hug? Did Bellamy not provide one? Isn't hugging what the pair of them do? This is not the optimistic news she was expecting.

"How are you doing?" She asks carefully.

Clarke snorts damply. "I don't know. I don't know, Mum. I lost Madi, I thought I lost Bellamy – but now he insists he's happy we get a chance to see each other again? And I just don't know what to think. And I just – I miss – I miss her." She concludes, shaking with new sobs.

Abby hugs her again, a little awkward, a lot worried. So Clarke's in a bad way. That's no surprise, surely. But it's bad news all the same.

Before long, Clarke breaks the hug.

"Could I have some time to myself, Mum?"

That's not a subtle request. But Abby understands it – of course Clarke needs privacy to process her feelings. And of course she's embarrassed at being back in her parents' home when she feels like a young adult.

Abby slips quietly from the room, and closes the door behind her. And then she spends the rest of the night trying to ignore the sporadic sobs she can hear coming from beyond the door.

…...

She has two grieving children to care for, after that. She tries to ensure Clarke gets regular meals, keeps up a steady stream of laundry. She grows increasingly aware that her newfound obsession with doing chores is probably not ideal. It's a strategy to deal with her anxiety and restlessness – she can see that. Ah well. There are probably more dysfunctional coping mechanisms on this Ark.

She doesn't go to see Bellamy so often these days. She doesn't want to intrude on his time catching up with his sister and his other close friends who have disconnected now. But all the same, she makes a point of checking in with him from time to time.

He's still family. Even if he and Clarke seem to be struggling to admit that to themselves, just now.

…...

In the midst of this, despite all odds, Abby's relationship with Jake flourishes. It's the strangest thing – it's not like this is the picture perfect marriage between two Alpha Station success stories that they shared in the early days. Nor is it the ideal nuclear family they had when Clarke was young. It's a different kind of family life – raw and messy, built around coffee with Callie and food parcels for Bellamy, and most of all around urging Clarke out of her room every so often.

And over and above all those commitments? Pancakes.

Abby thinks it's silly. The canteen serves adequate food. It must be costing a fortune in ration points to make pancakes in their little kitchen every morning.

One day, she gathers her courage and asks about it.

"We have the ration points." Jake says, with a casual shrug.

"Yes – but _how_?"

"I saved a few." He offers lightly.

"When you say a few?"

He pauses. He eats a bite of pancake, chews slowly. She's a little exasperated by that – pancakes are not famously difficult to chew. And then, at last, he speaks.

"We can afford to have pancakes for the next year or so. I didn't spend a whole lot while you and Clarke were in the simulation. I guess I didn't have any reason to – I didn't socialise much. I'd get a drink with Sinclair sometimes, once he was disconnected."

Abby nods. She wasn't after a timetable. She was after an _explanation_.

"And I guess partly I wanted to save up. I knew it was grim in there. I didn't know what Clarke might need when she got out – loads more art supplies so she could draw the emotions away, I don't know." He swallows. "I didn't know what _you_ might need when you got out."

She gasps. That's it. That's the confirmation she was looking for, that for all his talk of _no hard feelings_ and his cold, rehearsed speeches, the warm romantic she first married was still hiding away in there, too.

That's her confirmation that Jake was always hoping they'd have a second chance.

"You got it right. These pancakes have helped a lot." She says. It ought to be a light comment, but it comes out heavy with emotion – and yes, also with love.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You could probably stop with them now though. I think we're doing OK, right? We could probably just eat breakfast together in the canteen. And you're right about Clarke – she might need some kind of art therapy, but I can't even convince her to touch a pencil."

To her surprise, Jake looks disappointed. She frowns. She can't see why that should be.

"Jake?" She prompts gently.

"I don't want us to be doing _OK._ " He bites out, annoyed. "I want us to be doing _well_. I want to be ready to tell you I love you again. I want the words to just tumble out in bed like they used to do all the time."

Abby flushes. She reaches out, covers her hand with his. "I think we're doing pretty damn well, under the circumstances. How about we have pancakes a couple of days a week, and save the rest of the ration points for Clarke?"

He nods. He pulls his hand slowly away, gets back to eating his pancakes.

She gathers her courage. "I love you. That's how well I think we're doing. I know you're not ready to say it, and I get that. I'm so sorry that it ended up this way. But just – I love you."

He grins. He looks so much like his old self, in that moment, that she swoons a little, feels her spine soften into the back of her chair. And then he really takes her breath away.

"I will." He tells her firmly. "Soon. Just you wait and see."

The atmosphere is light as they finish their food. But then Clarke walks in the front door, back from eating her breakfast with Wells, Abby imagines. And the sadness walks right back in with her.

…...

There's something going on. Abby knows there is. Clarke has started coming home later, disappearing during the day for no apparent reason. And perhaps this ought to be worrying, given everything Clarke has been through of late.

But it's not worrying, because she suddenly looks a lot less _broken_.

She works it out one afternoon. It's a rare afternoon, because both her and Clarke have some time off from med bay at the same time. And it's even rarer, because Clarke has chosen to sit in the living room reading a book rather than hiding away in her room.

She knows something must be afoot. She puzzles over it as she pretends to read a research paper about some virus that is long extinct. She squints at the book Clarke is reading, tries to pick out the title, but it is hidden by the way she holds it.

And then there's a knock at the door.

Abby gets there first. She was sitting closer. She opens the door, sees Bellamy standing on the other side.

"Hey. Sorry. I'm just here for Clarke." He offers, jaw tense.

Abby nearly laughs from sheer relief. He's _just here for Clarke_. That's the best news she's heard all month, she's pretty sure. Her daughter and this young man she considers family have finally faced their fears and decided to start hanging out again.

She's so damn proud of them.

She steps back from the door, beckons Bellamy inside. "Sure, sure. Any big plans? Or do you want me to go visit Callie so you can have the living room?"

He frowns at her, evidently surprised. Clarke giggles somewhere off to the right. She actually _giggles_. That's a sound Abby hasn't heard in far too long.

"Stay here, Mum. We're heading to the library."

Again she stifles a gleeful laugh. Clarke heading to the library? That explains this sitting and reading. Bellamy really has worked miracles, she thinks. This is a much better plan than sitting in her room and weeping, which seemed to be Clarke's primary hobby until last week.

"Great. Don't let me hold you up. Oh, you should take some snacks! Let me get you -"

"Mum. Stop. We're just going to the library. We don't need a snack." Clarke tells her firmly, with that look in her eye that is almost her old fire. "But – thank you. It's good to see that – you know. Thanks for your support."

There's a beat of silence. Of course there is. It's not usual, to thank someone for their _support_ over something as trivial as going to the library with their good friend.

That's because all three of them know that this visit is anything but trivial.

"You're welcome. Both of you." She swallows. "Take care of each other."

Bellamy nods, eyes sad. Like he did all those simulated years ago with the death wave bearing down on them, Abby thinks.

"We try to." He says, eyes on the carpet.

Clarke fixes it, of course. She's always helping him put himself back together. She crosses the floor to him, pulls him into a quick hug, her book held ungainly in her hand as she wraps her arms about his neck.

"We're getting there." She says lightly, as she turns for the door.

And then they're gone, wandering off down the hallway together, all tentative smiles and gesturing with books, blurring the lines between each other's personal space as they have always done.

Abby cries as she watches them go. But only a little, and only happy tears. She can't wait to tell Jake all about this, when he gets home tonight.

…...

She's not sure whether the Ark itself becomes a happier place, in the weeks and months that follow, or whether it's only her small corner of it. But either way, she doesn't seem to be doing so much laundry these days. And she figures that has to be a good sign.

Her relationship with Jake continues to flourish, even though he only makes pancakes twice a week. It's almost like their love is built on firmer foundations than brunch food. Foundations like a strong sense of justice and utter loyalty to their family. Not to mention excessive enthusiasm for old Earth soccer games, which they take to watching again on the TV in the lounge. It's not the same, without Thelonius. They're mourning him even though he's alive – they're mourning the friendship that has crashed and burned. But sometimes Clarke joins them, and occasionally she brings Wells or Bellamy with her, so that's good. Abby resumes her place on the council, and relishes the chance to get back to some kind of normality.

Bellamy is over a lot. When he starts staying the night, and Clarke starts sometimes staying the night at his, Abby and Jake do not comment. Or at least, not in front of the youngsters. They keep their expressions of joy to share with each other in private.

There are still sticking points, of course. There are things which are not resolved. And top of Abby's list is the fact that she doesn't feel entirely at peace with Marcus. She's ashamed to say she almost forgets about him from time to time. And that feels wrong, because he was a major part of her life. But the more she reflects on it, the more she can see he was right – they weren't a couple in love, any more, so much as a pair of tired, desperate people trying to keep each other alive.

She wishes him well from the bottom of her heart. And she feels guilty whenever she stops to wonder how he's getting on. She doesn't see him much, these days – they only spend time together at council meetings, and those are hardly deep conversations about their feelings.

Maybe she ought to do something about that. If she's serious about honouring the love they once shared and wishing him the best, maybe she ought to reach out to him.

She corners him after a council meeting one day.

"Marcus? Have you got a minute?" She doesn't even bother fabricating an excuse.

He nods, resumes his seat. He looks expectantly at her while they wait for the room to clear.

She summons her courage. "I wanted to ask how you're getting on. I feel like we don't see each other much, and that's a shame. The Marcus I knew on the ground – he was a good guy, and good company. But I get it if you're not ready to see me and Jake socially."

He looks startled. "You want us to spend time together socially?"

She hesitates. Maybe this was a stupid idea. "We could. I just – I don't know. Who do you hang out with, now Thelonius has distanced himself from us all? Do you see people outside of council meetings?"

"Is this a pity invitation?" He asks, and she can't quite tell whether he's teasing. She doesn't read him so well, these days.

"No." She bites out, defensive. "You're a good guy. I think – you and Jake would get on well, though I understand why you might find that tough. But also – I really do want you to be OK."

"I am OK. I promise." He hesitates. "You're right. I don't see a whole lot of company. I see Bellamy quite often. And I do enjoy council meetings. Perhaps it would be good to try to see each other socially some time."

She brightens. That went better than expected.

Then he pulls the rug out from under her feet. "There's something else, Abby. I haven't told you, because I didn't know how you'd react. And I asked Callie not to tell you because – I thought it should come from me. But we're seeing each other again. More seriously this time."

She stares at him, stunned.

"You and Callie? Again?" How has this passed her by?

"Yes. But – not like before. I know I can do better than that now, be better. You taught me that. We're taking it slow – I'm not just _using her_ like I was before." He says, as if disgusted with his former self.

She loves this life after simulated death in many ways. She loves the second chance, loves Clarke, loves Jake.

But she really hates the way she keeps being taken by surprise. They don't tend to be physically dangerous surprises, like she faced on the ground. But she's sick to death of such sudden shocks to her system.

"I'm so happy for you both." She says, when she has gathered her wits.

Marcus is silent for a moment. He frowns at her, serious.

"That's it?" He asks at length. "You're happy for us? Not angry that I didn't tell you sooner? Not – not uncomfortable with it?"

"I couldn't be happier." She reiterates, more strongly. "Honestly. I didn't see it coming. But you both deserve to be happy. You're good people, and I think you could bring out the best in each other."

He laughs a little. "You already did that, Abby. Thank you. For showing me the light. I think things have all turned out for the best."

She agrees with that. She agrees with it wholeheartedly.

…...

The day of Madi's memorial is a difficult day. Emotions run high, naturally. The room is crowded with almost everyone Abby thinks Clarke has ever known personally, and a few more grateful souls besides. Clarke really is a pretty inspirational young woman – it seems it's not only her proud mother who thinks so.

Abby makes it through her prepared words. It's difficult, and she only knew the girl for a couple of simulated weeks. She cannot imagine how Clarke is coping. But Bellamy sits by her side, of course, steady and caring as ever. Abby is happy to see that – her little girl will be OK.

She makes it through the rest of the ceremony, too. She makes it through the long afternoon and evening that follow, as she tries to divert attention from Clarke and redirect wellwishers who want to know where she has disappeared to. Abby hopes she's disappeared back to Bellamy's place. Or that he has taken her back to the Griffin apartment. The two of them are doing rather well at taking care of each other, these days, and it warms her heart to see it.

At last, she and Jake make their way home. They stumble, exhausted, into the living room, and put on a soccer game in an effort to unwind. She finds herself curling up on the couch with him, a kind of relaxed intimacy she hasn't quite dared to explore since she disconnected.

And then she stiffens in shock.

"I love you." Jake whispers, utterly calm. "Thought it was about time I said it. You were incredible today – taking such good care of our girl, holding it together. But I know it must have been tough for you."

She breaks, then. She falls apart, weeping into his arms, whispering words of love to him in between sobs. But she doesn't feel particularly self-conscious about crying. It feels like a pretty healthy catharsis, in this moment, and she knows that Jake is more than ready to hold her while she weeps.

…...

There's a lightness that comes with knowing Jake loves her once more, with being able to pass the words freely between them. It's as if she needed to know he could still love her, to be able to love herself again. She feels like she's really left behind her addiction, and some of the tougher choices she made on Earth. Or at least, she has managed to package them carefully, and store them in a neat corner of her heart. She supposes she will always carry them with her, but at least they do not dominate her life.

There are other things to focus on, as months blur into years. There is her work in med bay and on the council. There is even, before long, a granddaughter to welcome.

Abby gets far too excited about delivering baby Aurelia. Of course she does. She has always loved deliveries, finds them miraculous and adorable, all at once. But to think that this is her own granddaughter, cementing the happiness her daughter and the man she considers her son-in-law have managed to salvage against all odds?

It's one of the happiest days of Abby's life.

But she forces herself to give them some privacy. She ushers Jackson from the room, closes the door behind her. Faces the onslaught of questions from friends and family.

"Are they OK?" Monty asks first, because of course he does.

"They're well. Resting quietly together." Abby summarises.

"What reason does Bellamy have to rest?" Murphy teases. "It's nine months since his contribution to -"

"Thanks." Raven cuts him off. "Is Aurelia beautiful?"

Wells rolls his eyes. "Of course she's beautiful. She's a baby. She's _their_ baby. That kid really won the genetic lottery."

"She's gorgeous." Abby confirms. "Go on, everyone. You can't see them yet. Come back later this morning. They need to rest."

Harper complies cheerfully. Octavia protests that she is family, which has Jasper pointing out that they all are, in a manner of speaking. Sinclair and Marcus get a bit paternal, and herd most of the younger folks down the hallway.

Abby and Jake are left standing together in a deserted corridor, in a silence which is rather warm and comfortable.

"All good?" Jake asks, concise and to the point.

"All good. Let's go home."

They walk hand in hand down the corridors. Abby's not usually hugely demonstrative in public – Jake has always been more the type for ambushing her with a kiss when she least expects it. But there aren't many people around this early in the morning, and she loves her husband, so she sees nothing wrong with a little display of affection.

She decides to squeeze his fingers gently for good measure.

"You look tired." He observes gently.

"You don't say? Delivering my granddaughter at three in the morning and I look tired?" She teases lightly.

He laughs. It's good that they laugh together, these days. He leans over to press a peck to her cheek as they walk.

"It was good to see everyone there." He offers. "I mean, I knew Octavia wouldn't stay away. And I knew Kane would be there. But it was great to see all those friends who helped them through their time in the simulation."

Abby nods carefully. There's something she thinks she needs to say. "It was good to see Marcus. I guess she's kind of his grandchild too, isn't she?"

"I had that exact conversation with him." Jake says easily. "We're all good. I know that he's the closest thing Bellamy has to a father figure. I'm not about to get jealous over sharing Aurelia."

"You're wrong, you know." She informs him mildly.

"About what?"

"It's not that he's the _closest_ Bellamy has to a father figure. You've become a father figure to him too. There's both of you, and you're different, and that's that."

Jake grins, squeezes her fingers. They round the last corner to their apartment, wearily make their way the last few paces.

But it seems there is something else to be said, before they go inside.

"It's good to have you back. The old you – the one I recognise. You've changed, of course you have. I get that. But you're still the same woman at heart." Jake says, heart in his voice.

Abby reaches up to press a kiss to his neck. "It's good to be back. It's a strange one, isn't it? Some things change, some things never do."

With that, she lets go of his hand and reaches for her key. She wants to get inside, is eager to curl up in bed with her husband and get some sleep in his arms.

She knows, now, that good things are waiting for her beyond the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
